


Burnt Umber

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Canon, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-07-07
Updated: 2005-07-07
Packaged: 2018-12-27 06:23:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12075315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: Sex and Make-up





	Burnt Umber

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

Brian walks in on me helping Emmett get ready for a flame party, make-up spread on the counter in the bathroom, clothes strewn on the bed. A box of Emmett's "accessories" is open on the ledge, feather boas, chokers and glue-on sparkles spilling out onto the duvet. 

"Sorry for interrupting, ladies," Brian drawls, removing his tie and beginning to strip the trappings of his daytime persona.

Emmett decides he's flaming enough for the festivities and, with a click of his heels, heads towards the door. "Thanks sweetie, just throw all that stuff in a bag. I'll get it tomorrow." With a bat of his false lashes he's off. 

For a minute I wish I was going too. Until I turn and see a naked Brian kicking his way through the frou frou on the bed, joint in one hand, Beam and two glasses in the other. Things are looking up.

"Move this fucking mess," he announces as I climb the stairs. I gather the clothes and drop them unceremoniously on the floor by the closet. 

When I return from the bathroom with the make-up, Brian is laying on his stomach, smoking the joint and digging through Emmett's accessories, scorn and amusement lighting his beautiful face. 

"Emmett is fearless," he says. Then, in response to the surprised look on my face, "It takes a lot of guts to fly that flag." He rolls away and I store that little insight into Brian Kinney in my "why I love him" file.

I turn off the lights in the loft and light a few candles before climbing onto the bed, two glasses of Beam in hand. I settle cross-legged beside him as he props himself against the head-board and re-lights the joint.

Twenty minutes later, my world has developed a fuzzy edge and the Beam starts a slow burn down through my core. Brian is high as well, pontificating on marketing strategies, the high price of club dancers, and how good my skin looks in the candle's glow.

I stretch my legs out and slide my hand back for balance. I can feel something in the sheets and discover a set of Emmett's Mardi Gras beads. He had forsaken them for another more fabulous piece of jewelry. I roll them in my hands and look at Brian. 

I want to play.

I straddle his long legs, facing him and whisper, "You look beautiful in candle glow too, Brian." He takes a long sip of Beam and waits to see where I'm going with this.

I push forward on his lap so that my hardening cock rubs against his. I reach out and slide the beads over his head. He snorts a little but doesn't stop me. The beads are looped so that as I draw on one strand, the other tightens around his neck, choker-style. The longer loop lies between his pecs. The beads are the colour of burnt umber and they set off the deep tans and golden tones in his skin. I could cum just looking at him.

I take both our cocks in my fist and just hold them, feeling our skin slide together and the heat build.

"Brian."

"Hmmm."

"Let me."

"Let you what?"

"Let me play."

He growls a little but drops his hands to his sides in feigned defeat. I reach back to the ledge for Emmett's make-up box and place it beside me. He stiffens. I lean forward and kiss him, pleading a little with my lips. 

He settles again. And my cock stiffens a little more.

He told me one time, when I was commenting on Emmett's make-up at Babylon, that when he was a kid, a trick had made it worth his while to wear eyeliner while Brian fucked him. He said the trick called him "his painted boy" right before he shot his load. Brian scoffed at the story. I was hard for a week. 

I reach into the box and pull out a golden brown shadow and a small sable brush. Emmett is so going to make me replace everything. Brian has lit a new joint and shotguns a hit for me before getting comfortable again. I lean in and brush the shadow across the crease of his eye-lid and sit back to see what I have created. The room is lit well enough that I can see the dusky colour that now sets off his beautiful hazel eyes. I brush the shadow across his other eye and stop to admire my work again.

He takes another puff as I emerge from the box with a deep brown eyeliner pencil and a smudger. At least that's what Emmett called it. He stubs the joint and closes his eyes, allowing me access. When I'm done with both lids, I tell him to look up and I drag the colour under his bottom lashes. When I sit back again, I'm struck dumb. If his eyes were hot before, they are definitely combustion-level now. 

I lean in to kiss him and it takes everything I have not to beg him to fuck me then and there. He knows his effect. And if the stiffness of his cock is any indication, he's getting off on the game too. 

I dump the eye-make-up back into the kit and pull out a glitter lip-gloss. I lick his mouth before dabbing the gloss onto his bottom lip. It's too thick but it catches the candle light. And I can't bring myself to spread it out. I'm mesmerized.

Fuck. That trick must still be whacking off to the memory of his "painted boy" because this image is now burned into my brain forever.

I run my tongue under the beads around Brian's neck and pull on them a little. His eyes flutter and I have to catch my breath. 

I pull out another tube of gloss, raspberry, and use my finger tips to paint his nipples. They harden under my touch. He gasps a little and somehow it makes me feel less silly for being so turned on.

I lift off his legs and pull on him a little to get him to lie down. As he does, the beads on his chest slide to one side and frame his nipple. I commit every detail to memory. This night will provide me with drawing material for months.

I hold a container of bronzer in my hand and pull out the largest sable brush that Emmett owns. I trace Brian's ribs and abs with the powder, highlighting his perfect physique and making him quiver. He's all about control, but this is right on the edge of tickling and tantalizing and I can see his muscles struggle with the conundrum. I find it unspeakably hot.

I use the acrylic handle to push his legs apart and when he has complied, I run the brush up his thighs and over his balls. He moans and I leak.

When I use the small sable brush on the underside of his glans, he begins to pant a little and the shine on his lips completely captivates me. He shudders and stares back at me with his dark, dark eyes. 

I paint the head of his cock with the bronzer and watch as the beads around his throat tremble with his exertion to stay still. I use the large sable brush on the length of his shaft, then rub my dick up against his and paint them both with the brush. I'm afraid to move when he throws his head back and moans deeply.

I urge him to roll over, angling him toward the closet and the mirror that hangs there. The room is dark but lit well enough that I can see his eyes looking back at me as I position the pillows under him and spread his legs.

I almost laugh out loud when I realize that Emmett has lube in his make-up box, that boy is ever-prepared. I quietly lay it beside Brian's leg instead. I trace the large brush down his spine and dust the cheeks of his perfect ass, spending time on the luscious fold where his leg meets his bottom. He wants more attention and grumbles his displeasure while pumping his hips a few times.

I push one of his legs up, bending it at the knee, to give me more access to what we both want. I run the large brush up his crack a few times but switch to the small one for the fine work I want to perform around his hole. He arches off the bed when the spit-soaked tip begins to trace the tiny lines around his pucker. I rut my own cock against the bed a few times almost cumming when he breathes my name. 

I look into the mirror and see his need drawn across his beautiful face. I hold his gaze as I slide the lubed handle of the make-up brush into his tight hole, stretching him. The acrylic of the handle takes on the colours of his body, tan and golden and deep burnt umber. I angle down and tap his prostrate. His mouth drops open and the shine across his bottom lip glints obscenely in the candle light.

I am soon pressing into him, my sheathed cock breaching him, too desperate to be gentle. I use my thighs to keep him spread. I don't want him to make it to his knees.

I'm controlling this fuck. 

He arches again and I catch his smoky eyes in the mirror as I pump with long, hard strokes. When I feel us both moving towards the end, I tug hard on the beads around his neck, causing his upper body to arch and allowing me an angle to finish us both.

My world turns black as I ride out my orgasm and I see Brian's eyes, permanently etched in my mind's eye, dark, and eternally seductive.

"I trust you're spending time back there thinking up an explanation for Emmett," he huffs when I can't find the strength to move.

I roll to one side instead and allow him space to turn and wrap himself around me.

"Maybe I'll just let you answer the door with your eyes made up and the big sable brush lodged up your ass, that should clarify things."

He snorts derisively, and turns to get up.

I loop my hand through the beads and pull him back to me.

"I want to be fucked by the modern day Jim Morrison," I whisper.

He smiles. He likes that.

"Just a minute,"he whispers back "I have to fix my make-up."


End file.
